Sick Obsession
by HamletRapedHoratio
Summary: AU. Batman is a bit darker then anyone imagines, and in this Universe he hates Superman with a passion just for being an alien. His one true desire is to break him. Sometimes 'wishes' do come true. Contains dark material, rape, and abuse. I suggest being older then 16 to read it. And as always reviews are lovely.
1. Chapter 1

Controlling,

Possessive,

Power,

When it comes down to it, everyone wants to be in control, to have power, and even to use that power over someone else to show dominance. It's in our DNA, a trait some believed to be passed down from generation to generation, though the urge to want to control can be increased or decreased depending on nurture and environment.

Bruce was never raised in a demanding house hold, when his parents were alive they did their best to show him that even though they lived richly, they were by far not snobs as were depicted in movies and television programs. He was taught that everyone was equal, from the richest of rich, to the poorest of poor. That everyone deserved to be treated with dignity and respect. But after their deaths it was as if all their teachings went out the window, and the cold slowly began to creep into his heart. Throughout his touring of the world Bruce learned what power truly was, learned how he could manipulate others with a flash of a smile, or a slide of the hand, and the taste of power was something he found hard to resist. It slowly became an itch that needed to be constantly scratched.

Foreign woman, street workers, news media, they were all easy to control, and he found himself more and more in their company, dazzling them with expensive wine and food, making many a woman give him their hearts, only to smash it to pieces after he was done with them. It was a cycle really, a different woman every week, an affair here and there, it made him feel in control, as if for once he could finally be the master of Gotham. And it only got worse as he dawned the cowl of Batman, becoming the very creature of the night that his parents were trying so hard to keep him from becoming. Though Batman watched over Gotham and protected it and it's morals, he also used the power to his advantage, scaring many a villain into submission at times, even going as far as forcefully coercing men in power to do as he wanted. He became the dark shadow that haunted Gotham, not the Joker, him. Each night stalking the streets for his 'prey' of some small time crooks, waiting to pounce and bring them in, only after he broke a few bones that is.

And slowly, as most heroes do, Bruce had finally joined the Justice League as one of the founders, something he denied on most occasions. But secretly it made him happy, happy to know that he held the strings on most of the world's strongest men and women. That he could send them to their deaths or send them to victory in battle by strategizing their fate. He held files on each of them, all containing their identities, weaknesses, powers, and how to eliminate them if they ever crossed him or deemed too big a threat to the rest of the world.

Most of the members from the League trusted him full heartedly, never once questioning his motive, barely complaining when they lost a comrade or was hurt. If Batman wanted something bad enough he got it. Many members were seduced by his dark charm; shockingly a few of them were the straightest males you could ever find. Flash, Green Lantern Kyle, and Green Arrow to name a few. He had all the women wrapped around his fingers, and the males all wanted to be in his good graces. But there was one member that irritated- no, irritation was minor in what he felt, this one member truly pissed him off, pushing him to the brink of wanting nothing more than to pound him into submission. He tried all his tricks, going as far as to being 'nice' to him. But for some reason that was unknown to him, the Man of Steel did not take to any of his advances, nor did his threats cause him to cower in fears like it did to Wild Cat or Superboy.

Just the thought of his smiling face made Bruce mad. This alien was living the good life while he was trying to play god to fill the void that was in his life, one he knew he could never truly fill. It wasn't fair, he shouldn't have even been brought to this planet yet there he sat, up by Wonder Woman and Flash and the rest of them, smiling down at the cameras while he spoke to the United Nations. Batman did his best to look uncaring as the alien to his right spoke cheerfully about the situation dispersing over the left hemisphere. But underneath the table, and hidden by his back cape he was forming a tight fist. He wanted nothing more than to throw Superman over the table and force him to submit both physically and mentally, to hear him scream out that he was Lord and Master over his pathetic body. Though Bruce couldn't deny that for an alien, he did have a very nice physique, his muscles rippling, his skin as smooth and clear as child's, and his eyes were as blue as the heavenly skies above.

That more than anything made him want to destroy him, no one should be that pure. He watched in disgust as Superman stood up, bowing politely to the Minister of Japan before turning off the camera feed, turning around to give the Founders a bright sickening smile, announcing their job well done before closing the meeting.

"Superman, wait up." Batman barely spoke in the presence of the others, his ability to seduce and manipulate worked better when he was doing it one on one, but he was fed up with waiting, he was going to humiliate the Man of Steel and show him that he wasn't any better than the scum found on his boot.

" Batman, hello." Superman's eyes closed slightly as he smiled at him, warmth radiating from his solar charged body. "What can I do for you?"

"Watch deck. Now." Batman didn't wait for a reply, leaving the room before anyone could question on why he needed to speak with the Man of Steel. He smirked to himself as he pulled out a small bat shaped tracker from his belt, he was going to once and for all find out who the man was behind the cape, and when he did, he was going to humiliate him till he begged to be locked away in the cave. Which he would allow, but not until he made him realize that he was something that should be, and could be destroyed. He could barely hold back a smirk that flickered on his lips, thinking about all the ways he could humiliate him. There was one idea he had kicking around for a while and he would be damned if he didn't get the chance to do it.

"What did you need to talk about?" Superman stood before him, cape wrapped around his shoulders, hiding his 'S', the accursed spit curl in the middle of his forehead once again.

"First off, cut that curl of yours, it makes you look like a boy scout." He all but mocked him, walking over to him, standing to full height, as he placed his shoulders back. "Secondly I want to know what the hell you think you are doing talking to the United Nations like that. You are not a citizen of the United States; you are an alien, technically illegal immigrant. So stop acting like you are one of us." His lips threatened to twitch up in a smirk when he saw the look of confused pain run through Superman's eyes, though quickly being replaced with his usual carefree happiness.

"Batman, I am a citizen as much as anyone else, I protect the planet and all who inhabit it. Is being born here such a big deal?" He looked upon the man dressed in black, a shiver running down as the white eyes of his cowl slitted. "Tell me Batman, why can't you and I just work together and get along? Is it that hard to be at least somewhat approachable? You talk to everyone else but when it comes to Martian Man Hunter and I, you treat us like the plague."

Batman shook his head, already annoyed that this creature was trying to talk him into thinking they were equals. They were not equals, and eventually he would make him see that. But until then he had to play 'nice', and god was he going to take it out on him later. "You are right Superman; I have been acting a bit harsh." He lied smoothly, his voice like velvet. "It's not fair that I treat you differently than the rest of us humans." He clapped his hand on the others shoulder, slipping the tracker onto his neck, knowing the nano-nites will be absorbed into his skin in the matter of seconds.

Superman blinked in shock, his pupils wide as he felt the other touch him for the first time. "Thank you…"

"No, thank you." Batman sneered, pushing past him, all but vanishing from the room by the time Superman turned around to look at him. A shiver ran down the Man of Steels spine as he saw the ends of his cape disappear, something about the way he spoke made him nervous. Though perhaps ignorance is bliss, for if he did know what Bruce had in store for him he would be half way across the galaxy with no plans on returning.


	2. Chapter 2

After Bruce left the Man of Steel on the watch deck he felt his aggravation returned. His eyes peered out from his eye slits and easily found someone who could 'help' him for the moment. Sitting propped up in his usual spot by the bay window was Flash, or as Batman dubbed him, the 'walking vibrator.' He could tell from the way his shoulders were slumped and the drool stain on his chin, he was asleep. That made him smirk harder, it would be easier to seduce him when he was just waking up.

"Flash, wake up." He stood before the speedster, his arms crossed in impatience as blue eyes slowly opened. A sleepy groan escaping him.

"Bats…what's up? I was dreaming about a never ending pizza bar." He chuckled, his tongue darting between his lips to lick the dried drool from his chin. His heart skipped a beat as he looked upon the other, Batman's lips holding his famous playboy smirk, and his hip jutted out, presenting Flash with a clear view of his straining crotch. "You want to play again huh?"

No matter how many times Flash told himself that it was just a 'little game' or just 'playing around', he knew it was a lie. It was just something he told himself to make him feel better, it wasn't a game, it was just Batman once again showing how easily he could destroy him if he ever pushed him over the edge of annoyance. Without a word he got off the chair, getting onto his red spandex clad knees, kneeling before his crotch. He reached for his belt but was cut off by a hard whack to the knuckles by the dull edge of a batarang.

The smirk widened on Batman's lips as Flash brought his hand to his mouth, trying to hold back a cry of pain. "How about you redo that Flash, and this time pay attention."

Flash nodded quickly, reaching up once more, this time tugging down on the black fabric of his outerwear rather than touching Batman's beloved belt. "Yes sir." He tugged down the specially designed fabric, taking out his already half hardened cock that seemed to almost twitch in impatience. Flash licked his lips as he brought his mouth closer, closing his eyes. For a moment he thought about being back asleep, curled up perhaps by Arrow or Lantern after a particularly rough threesome night of with the Dark Knight. The fucking was amazing, even if he ended up with new cuts and bruises, but the cuddling after, being pressed against a warm chest 'lovingly' made his toes curl. But reality slowly tugged him back as he felt the batarang hit the back of his neck.

Looking up at the white eyes he opened his mouth, licking the precum slick head, taking in half of his length before receiving another blow. Flash couldn't help but wince, closing his mouth around the tip, bobbing head up and down slowly, a head ache already forming. He could practically feel Batman's glare on him, causing his stomach to twist as he sucked silently, allowing his hand to rest on his gray clad thighs.

"Pathetic. Absolutely pathetic." The cruel chuckle that escaped Batman's lips ran chills up Flash's spine. "You're the world's fastest man alive yet here you are on your knees like a dog. Perhaps you really aren't a hero; perhaps you are just still a little boy trying to be all grown up, yet failing so utterly miserably. You must suck anyone who asks, don't you? More of a filthy slut then a 'respected' hero."

Batman may have been slower and weaker than some members of the League, but the one ability he possessed that few required was the perfect use of the English language. No matter what the situation, he could cut anyone down, make even the happiest of people cry. His tongue was as sharp as a sword, and he was quite proudly aware of just how powerful he was in that aspect.

If anyone else had spoken those words Flash wouldn't have hesitated in breaking their nose, but when he rolled his eyes up to look at him all he could do was mentally coax himself to stay quiet and to keep sucking. And after a moment he found himself bobbing in rhythm with his own heartbeat, moving his tongue at hyper speed to cause gentle vibrations. From the groan above him he could tell that Batman was enjoying this immensely, after all, it was a display of power, and the one thing he came to learn about his mysterious friend was that he craved power more than a meth addict craved their kick. Slowly he felt his mask being removed, a rough black gloved hand running through his ginger locks. The fingers scratched against his scalp, tugging a hand full of hair out. He vibrated his tongue harder in an attempt to appease him, but before he could even vibrate his tongue at top speed he felt the other pull away, just in time to humiliate him more by ejaculating white sticky strands on the red heads face.

"Clean me off, and then clean yourself, you look disgusting." Batman sneered, pushing his cum covered tip into his mouth, making him clean it off before pulling away once more, fixing the lower part of his costume.

"Well it's not like it's my fau-" Flash had only averted his eyes for a second, but when he looked up once more the Dark Knight was gone, not a trace or sound could be found, leaving the other on his knees with cum dripping down his face just as Wonder Woman and Green Lantern rounded the corner, causing Flash to run quickly away before they could even catch sight of his face.

"Was that Wally?" Wonder Woman questioned, turning to Green Lantern John who only shrugged, the same question on his mind.

+++Gotham City: Wayne Manor+++

Alfred Pennyworth, the only employed butler at the Wayne family Manor was, and to this day, considered insane. He was the only hired help member to remain with Bruce Wayne after his parents death. He stood by the young ward when all else left him, mostly because he knew deep down that the wickedness Bruce kept about him was just to cover up the pain and hurt he felt every waking moment of every single day. And at first Bruce tried to push him away, breaking priceless artifacts and playing nasty tricks on the aging butler, but after a while the anger slowly bubbled down, being held under the surface by Bruce's cold brood silence.

Alfred had tried with all his might to get new helpers, but after spending one hour alone with Mr. Wayne most had left, telling the Butler that it 'just wouldn't work out', and the few that were hired left after only a few weeks, no longer able to deal with Bruce's lying and secrets. And even though Alfred had thoughts of quieting at times, he knew that if he left the Manor that he had kept tidy for the past thirty years would surely fall to shambles, and Master Wayne would never be seen from again.

"ALFRED! Come here!" Even from all the way upstairs Alfred could hear Bruce from down in the Bat cave, knowing that whatever had the millionaire yelling for him must have been urgent. Placing down the last dish into the strainer Alfred dried off his hands, heading to the old grandfather clock in the Master Work room. Pulling softly on the handle the door opened up, exposing dimly lit stairs.

"You bellowed?" He asked calmly, arriving silently behind him, his eyes instantly being attracted to the map of the U.S that filled up all seven monitors.

"I found him." Bruce finally announced, pointing to the East Coast, where a small red dot was blinking. "I finally found him. He lives in Metropolis."

"Found whom Master Wayne?"

"Superman. He lives in Metropolis, and I'm going to go hunt him down like filthy dog that he is."


	3. Chapter 3

Sunset was Clark Kent's ultimate favorite time of day. He felt it was a beautiful, peaceful time when the hours of the day turn slowly to blessed night. The magical time of day when the skies light up with bright vibrant colors ranging from the brightest of pinks and reds to the darkest of blues and purples. Each and every evening Clark would go up onto the Daily Planets roof to watch as the sun slowly sunk down under the sky scraper horizon. On top of the Golden Globe he would sit, his perfect skin practically glowing as his cells absorbed as much of the dying sun light as they possibly could.

The sun set was even more spectacular this evening then he could ever imagine, the colors a mixture of dark violent reds with a soft touch of violet at the edges. He sighed dreamily as he felt the sun light kiss his skin, his right hand running through his midnight hair as he removed his glasses. Clark moved back, his back resting on the globe as he continued to watch the skies ever changing color, the blue polyester suit wrinkling slightly underneath his weight. An angelic smile was plastered on his lips as he rested the back of his head against his bent arms, closing his eyes for a moment, not feeling an ounce of worry or panic.

Though if he knew that someone was on the other roof top watching him, then he probably would have been a bit concern. But when Batman didn't want to be seen, he wasn't seen. And at that particular moment as he hid up on the rafters of a building that was being reconstructed, he did not want to be seen. Not until he was closer and the time was right. Batman was crouched on the closest beam towards the Daily Planet, not even one football yard away. He hand made sure to observe Clark Kent all day, learning his mannerisms, and his habits. The fact that Clark was able to easily blend into crowds and was somewhat popular at work made him clench his jaw in fury. If Clark was Superman- no, there was no if, Clark Kent was Superman, and that meant that by being undercover as a reporter he could be finding out weaknesses of the human race, lulling the world into a false security, just waiting till the day he would strike. And if anyone was going to destroy the world it would be him. Why else would an alien like him be here on earth?

Though the sight of Clark Kent stretched out on top of the Golden Globe was almost…pleasant… His white under shirt showed off his clearly defined abs, chest heaving softly as he breathed. Though Bruce would have liked it better if he was heaving, desperate for breathe and naked.

Bruce watched him closely as he sat up after a good hour or two, slowly getting off the globe. He placed the glasses back onto the bridge of his nose and for the first time took notice that he wasn't alone. His head turned left and right, his eyes narrowing behind his glassless glasses. His whole body seemed to tense up, his shoulders moving back as he stood at his full height. He tilted his head to the left, listening carefully in case of sirens, but he heard none. Only heart beats.

He thought about it for a moment, but shook his head; it must have been from someone down in the office working late, a janitor perhaps. But still, it was too close for comfort, almost as if someone was standing right behind him. He spun on his heel just in case, and to his non surprise there was no one there. Just his shadow from the moon light. Clark scratched his head softly, his bottom lip jutting out as he mentally slapped himself for being paranoid. He was Superman for Pete's sake, what would harm him? A pigeon? A rat?

He chuckled softly to himself, walking over to the edge of the rooftop, looking out over the city of lights, his heart beating faster as he thought about it. This was his city, the people in this city were his responsibility, it gave him a sense of purpose, a meaning, and nothing made him happier than being there hero. Especially to Lois and Jimmy, they were the only people he ever truly trusted beside Ma and Pa, and perhaps Batman. He didn't spend enough time with the vigilante, but he knew somewhere deep down inside, he was a good person right?

After all Ma and Pa Kent taught him from the moment he was found in that corn field in Kansas that everyone was equal, that everyone was special in their own way, and that he was a loved and cherished member of Earth. Even though a handful of humans around the world considered him to be an 'alien intruder', Earth was his home, the only home he truly knew. Krypton was destroyed when he was just a mere babe, he must not have been even a year old. In a vain hope that the house of El would live on, he was sent away on an escape rocket, crash landing to earth where he would eventually be found by two poor farmers who prayed for a baby of their own, but could not conceive. Yes, in many ways Clark Kent (Kal-El) was a blessing in disguise.

"It's such a pretty night, and for once no crime." Clark mused to himself, looking down at the citizens who were walking the streets below, most likely heading home or going to their night shifts. A dream like smile appeared on his face as he closed his eyes, a soft breeze kissing his cheeks. For a moment he let his guard down, the weight of the world left his shoulders and he could finally breath without feeling the 'knife of worry' being stabbed into his stomach.

"Too bad you won't be enjoying it." The voice was so closed, barely above a breathy whisper, but a voice none the less. A piercing pain ran through his neck and spine as he tried to turn around, a cry of pain escaping him. A black gloved hand wrapped around his throat, causing his head to stay in place as the pain in his spine intensified, he could feel a needle from a syringe slowly sink deeper into his neck, a hot liquid running down his throat. His head felt heavy, his knees buckling. A foreign arm wrapped around his mid-section, pulling him against the person chest. He couldn't see who it was, but judging from the broad chest and the large hand that held his throat, it was a man. It would have been easier if he recognized the voice, but whoever it was it was someone he was fairly sure he didn't know.

"Wh-Who?" The needle was jerked out of his neck, causing a gasp of pain to escape him. The hand that was wrapped around his throat slowly loosened its hold, sliding up to cover his nose and mouth. His heart began to pound, sweat accumulating and dripping down his forehead, he couldn't move. Slowly his legs came out from under him as the man behind him dragged him back from the ledge, dropping the syringe in the process. Quickly he looked down; spotting a greenish oil surround the shattered glass, his instinct told him it was kryptonite.

"Silence. Count to ten, it'll all be over soon." The voice was husky, about two decimals lower than what most male humans was comfortable speaking at. He tried to dig his heels into the ground, trying desperately to slow the man down in his dragging but soon his eye lids began to droop and his mind wandered, leaving his body nothing more than a dead weight. "Fucking heavy." Batman growled as he threw Clarks body over the side of the building into a deserted alley, knowing the impact would do little more than just scratch him up. He reached into his utility belt, shooting a grappling hook at the top of the nearest building. He gave it a tug to make sure it caught before swinging down, landing just inches away from where Superman's body lay, face down. He tapped the button that rested snuggly on his left hip compartment, the Bat mobile slowly driving over to him from the shadows. The top slowly rose and slid off, revealing two seats and a pile of rope. Taking the roped he tied one end around the back bumper, the other tightly around Superman's wrists.

"Alfred." He waited for the butler to speak as he spoke into his cowls two way communicator.

"Yes Master Wayne?"

He jumped into the driver's side, the chrome closing. With a shriek of wheels and the sound of a body dragging he replied. "Prepare the 'Sanctuary'. I've got him."


	4. Chapter 4

When Bruce was growing up he was once sent to his room for being a bit mouthy to his father. His punishment was simple, go to his and sit there with no radio or television on. He was not permitted to do anything but sit on his bed and think about what he had said and how he could better himself. Bruce remembered sitting on his king sized bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking of everything he had said to the Gotham Mayor, nothing sounded too ill polite, but if his father thought him rude, then he must have been. He sat in that room by himself for almost an hour, the silence a mere annoyance. And as he grew he learned that by having a room completely silent, except for a small white noise wave, he could literally make himself go insane, which of course is why he had Alfred outside the room to stop it once it got too intense for him.

Bruce also recalled how combining pure darkness and a silent room could drive someone mad. Being in a dark, silent room would not make someone go mad; it was the time in that dark silent room that makes people go mad. The inability to decipher time, the need to imagine something smothering all other senses, oh yes, he knew these all too well, after all, if he was going to torture someone, he wanted to know firsthand the pain they would go through to make sure it was sever enough. Though sometimes he questioned himself, perhaps he just liked to torture himself. After all, it proved that he could still feel things other than self-righteousness and rage.

Bruce recalled clearly the look of bridled disdain on Alfred's face when he pulled up into the Bat cave, the body of Superman still tied to the bumper, his face cut and bruised from being dragged about ninety miles per hour on the back roads of Gotham. As the dome of the Batmobile retracted quietly he jumped out, dusting off his cape in doing so. He narrowed his ice blue eyes when he saw Alfred heading to the body, knowing full well the older man would try and take care of his minor injuries.

"Leave them. Get the Sanctuary ready and I'll meet you in there." The look on Alfreds face was hard to miss as he walked away from the first aid kit, the urge to help others making it hard for him to walk away. But still he did as he was told, heading off with a lantern down one of the old abandoned tunnels, heading to where a rusted door sat, built into the naturally occurring rock wall. Pulling out a skeleton key from his dark slacks pocket he placed the lantern up high to cast light, slowly placing the key into the lock, listening for the soft click. It took several tries, his gloved hands clenching as he tried turning it at different angles, finally being able to pull it open after the fifth try.

As per usual he was greeted by about three or four rats running out at the shine of his lantern, the odor of decay assaulting his sense of smell. But of course, he was not allowed to clean the room, he was there to simply make sure that it was open for when Bruce brings down the body. It would be the same drill that he did to his once ward Jason Todd, a young teenager that ended up shooting himself after being kept in the room for nearly two week. No lights, no sounds, no human contact, just the sound of his thoughts and the feelings of the rats running against him, chewing at his flesh when he tried to sleep. Alfred felt horrible hearing the poor boy scream in agony, the room slowly making him hallucinate visions of terror and despair. Till finally, after something short a miracle, he had escaped, killing himself to end the panic that was over taking him slowly.

"Move, he's heavy." Bruce grunted, still dragging Superman by the rope. He pushed passed Alfred, dragging both him and the body into the darkened room, picking it up carefully with a grunt, dropping it onto the shabby mattress that smelled of mold and lightly of rat urine.

"Master Wayne, I understand your distrust for this man, but I do believe you are taking this a bit too far. He has shown multiple times to be both a loyal and compassionate when it comes to his tie with mankind. If we give him another shot we would have time to bring him back to Metropolis before he even awakes. It would be as if this little event never happened." Alfred never pleaded, nor did he ever grovel, but seeing the outline of the stilled body on the bed reminded him of young Master Todd, a boy who could have been alive, and could have made a difference somehow in this bleak world.

"I will not allow that. He is here now, and he is mine. Just like the others. He could have been free like them, yet he chose to stage off my advances. This way I will be able to keep an eye on him at all times. He won't be able to sneeze without me knowing about it a day in advance." Bruce could feel his sadistic side coming out to play as he examined the aliens' body by the light of the lantern, his black gloved nails raking against his throat as a soft grunt was heard. "Stop treating him like a person Alfred, he is not one, he has no feelings of his own, he's an alien, something that needs to be monitored at all times. If his bloody hick family had any sense at all they would have dropped him at a Laboratory to be dissected. But the damage is done. It's now up to me to keep this world safe."

The look of disappointment on Alfred's face could not be put into words as he shook his head a fraction of an inch, watching the retreating back of his former young ward. With a muffled sigh he followed, locking the door tightly as he heard the mattress springs creak, surely Superman was beginning to wake up after his two hour drug induced sleep.

Slowly inside the room Clark began to stir, his eyes widening as he fought to see. He still felt weak and the darkness was almost burning. He listened for noises, hearing only the gentle thumps of his heart beating within his chest. He sat up, obviously too quickly as his head began to pound, the smells of the room making him sick to his stomach. A groan escaped his lips as he lied back down, a shiver running down his spine. He ran through his recent memories, trying to think of where he was and why he would be feeling so achy. He crinkled his nose as he caught a faint whiff of urine and decay, his stomach twisting.

"Where am I?" He whispered, feeling something warm and furry run across his legs.

Ok, let's get a few things straightened out:

1. This is AU.

2. Yes I know how Jason Todd was killed, I just used him as a sort of example.

3. I've been in rooms like these, they are horrifying after a long amount of times.

4. Enjoy.))


	5. Chapter 5

The Sanctuary, a small eight by eight room, was designed to slowly weaken a person's mind. To engross them so fully into 'nothing' that the only option they had available were to either fall asleep and pray that they remained asleep, or to hallucinate their own images and sounds to try and fill the dark, noiseless void.

The Sanctuary walls were naturally carved out of bedrock, the air damp and stale by the smell of decaying rats and natural water condensation from a nearby pool of water down in the tunnel. No light shone from under the door, nor anywhere else for that matter. Clark tried his best to sit up once again, his spine prickling with pain at each attempt. His brain felt sluggish as he tried to figure out where he was, even attempting to figure out just how long he had been there. The tingling in his legs told him he had been lying down for quite some time, and from the clammy feelings of his hand he figured he was somewhere underground and down slope. He dug his fingers into the moth eaten mattress, ignoring the prickles of pain as he sat up, his knees bending and pushing, allowing his back to rest against the rock wall. Small pants escaped his closed lips as he wrapped his arms around his knees, his forehead resting against his wrapped wrists. His eyes were wide open yet he could not penetrate the darkness, his inhuman hearing heard nothing but the soft, yet cut off panting of his breathing and the soft thud of his heart.

A shiver ran down Clark's spine as he focused on the darkness, attempting to light up the room with a small beam of heat vision, only to find nothing more than a few dim sparks that vanished after a second or two. He attempted again, this time it resulted to nothing. In a panic he attempted his ice breathe, getting nothing more than a slight chilly sensation in his chest cavity, but nothing more. A sense of panic slowly washed over him, the smells of the room, the lack of light and noise slowly reminding him of being on a spinning 'cup' in an amusement theme park from when he was younger. He held his breathe, willing the room to stop 'spinning' as he gripped his knees, rocking slightly backwards and forwards on heels to try and counter balance the 'spinning'. There was no indication of time as he rocked on his heels, the back of his head lightly hitting the rock wall, the darkness of the room becoming darker and darker till suddenly he saw a light. Taking a hand off his knee he covered his eyes from the impossibly bright light, blinking quickly as he saw a shadow of a figure walking towards him.

Blinking quickly he looked upon the figure, surprise clear on his face as the shadows slowly melted away, revealing his old time flame, and now rival, Lex Luther.

"L-Lex? What- where am I?" His voice sounded foreign even to himself as he licked his impossibly dried lips, a hand reaching out instinctively to try and touch the approaching Lex. Lex continued to walk over to him, dressed in his usual attire, a firmly ironed black suit with his usual red tie and white undershirt. His blue eyes were too bright, his smile too kind to belong to the short tempered villain.

"It's ok Kal-El. Your brain is merely making a hallucination to make up for the lack of stimulation." Lex spoke as if he was inside Clarks mind, he couldn't hear the man, but at the same time, he could. It was as if he were speaking directly to Supermans thoughts. "I will stay here and keep you company."

"No." Clark couldn't figure it out, the light that slowly illuminated Lex was now softly fading away, leaving him back to where he started, yet he could still hear his voice, softly talking. Yet he knew that what the voice said inside his head was true, he was a hallucination, for when he listened to what the voice was saying, he found that it was repeating old conversations they had when they were married, more than likely when they were curled up In bed discussing what to do with the Legion of Doom and Justice League. "Lex, I'm scared, please stop talking." He admitted softly, yet the voice did not falter.

"Some day when we are ready perhaps we can tell the Justice League about us." The voice inside his head kept on talking.

"Stop talking." He covered his ears.

"Though I doubt the Amazonian or Batman would like it."

"Stop. Talking." He clenched his eyes shut.

"Perhaps we could-"

"Shut the fuck up!" Finally he found himself yelling at the voice in desperation to stop talking, going as far as slamming his head back against the wall, the darkness enveloping him in anxiety, causing panic and adrenaline to drown him. "God Lex, please, please, please, please stop talking." He sobbed, the voice slowly becoming silent, the last word he could hear was, "Don't forget Kal-El, I love you."

"I love you to." He whispered out of habit, placing hands on his throat, cutting off the air supply. In his mind it was better to knock himself out and fall asleep then it was to stay awake and deal with any other hallucinations he felt would slowly come to him. With a tight squeeze he felt his lungs temporarily collapse, his shoulders slumping as he dropped his hands, his breathe once more returning, but his eyes closing, rewarding him with blessed sleep that he was craving.

"Master Bruce, it's been five days." Alfred softly spoke, placing a cup of coffee in front of the man currently clad in the armor of his Batman suit. "He keeps screaming for someone to shut up. Perhaps it's time he comes out?"

"Not yet." Bruce snapped, taking the cup of coffee off the counter top, taking a greedy gulp as he threw back his cowl, eyes narrowing. "The alien comes out when I decide that he's broken enough." He typed a few pass codes on the computer, hacking the Daily Planet's website, deleting Clark Jerome Kent from the system and payroll, marking him as 'terminated'. "I've already destroyed his apartment, his office, even the disgusting excuse of a farm. Even if he manages to escape he will have nowhere to go."

"I see you have thought this through." Alfred remarked softly, whipping off the dust that rested along the counter tops.

"I've been obsessed with him for a while now." Bruce quipped, drinking the rest of the dark brown liquid before throwing the cup over shoulder, typing quickly as he growled. "God damn it Luther, that moron doesn't know when to give up."

"A problem sir?"

"No, more of an annoyance then a problem." Bruce snarled, turning his back to both the computer and the butler. "Dinner in my room tonight, I do not wish to eat in the dining room." He barked, heading off to once again watch Clark in the dark, a new favorite pass time of his.


	6. Chapter 6

It was official. Clark Kent was finally losing his mind, and in a weird, almost giddy sort of way, he absolutely loved it. He no longer cared about how long he had been in the 'Sanctuary', no longer cared that his ears were beginning to bleed, or the fact that rats were chewing at his legs. He was perfectly happy being wrapped up in the illusions of having his parents and old lovers surrounding him.

He hummed sickly to himself as he closed his blood shot eyes, the image of Volcana and Lois Lane keeping him 'warm' and happy, despite the chill that had entered the room not too long ago. They appeared next to him on what he figured out was an old mattress, their bodies feeling almost real to him as his hands 'stroked' their hair. He could 'hear' them talking, their voices, like Luther's, being spoken in his head.

Clark didn't know it, but his body was slowly beginning to shut down. His digestive track and intestines squeezing together as they held his bowels in place, his stomach shrinking by nearly half, feeding off his weaker muscle lining and the small bit of fat he had distributed throughout his body. He vaguely remembered feeling the urge to use the restroom, but he knew there was not one anywhere in the room. This drove him to hold it, his kidneys giving a sting of protest every so often as he ignored the urge to find a place to urinate.

"Don't leave me!" Clark whined as the images of Volcana and Lois vanished, leaving him in darkness once again, the stinging pain from the rats chewing on his feet making him yelp. Yet even as he felt their diseased covered teeth dig into his flesh he made no move to kick them off. He accepted the pain as punishment, perhaps he was naughty and god was punishing him, or perhaps he was never really super at all and this was all in his head, perhaps this was reality and he was slowly waking up into it. That thought made him shiver in slight panic as he thought about what an elaborate dream it all could have been. But slowly, and quite harshly, he began to kick himself, trying to jar himself out of his panic, happy to at least have some super strength left. "Calm down Kal, you are not making this situation any better."

Clarks head shot up as he spotted his friends from the league, his arms instantly going out to them, wanting nothing more than to wrap his arms around the Amazonian warrior and the speedster known as Flash. "Yeah, you got to chill or your mind is going to be like a pop tart in a microwave." Flash spoke quickly, making the sound effects of fireworks. "Or KABOOM! Fishzle, sizzle, your brain is done and your sitting here like a puppet till you die and decay and become a ghost and-"

"Ok Wally! He gets it." Wonder woman back handed him good naturedly, her smile radiating just like the real Diana's. "Kal, we miss you."

"I miss you to." He whispered, feeling more blood dripping from his ears. He closed his eyes, no longer wanting to see the sad looks on all his allusions faces as more of them appeared, filling the room, suffocating him, each trying to give him fake hope. "Please go away."

"Superman. Snap out of it." The voice of Batman was what made him open his eyes; he had seen just about everyone from his past, but Batman, this was the first time he had even though of the dark vigilante from Gotham. "Superman, I want you to open your eyes and look at me. I know we don't talk much, and that you think I hate you, but the truth is I don't. I think you're remarkable, and I'm going to help you get out. But you need to do exactly what I say, understood?"

"Your- You're real?!" Clark opened his eyes wide, he didn't see through him! He could even smell him, this was no illusion. With great difficulty he managed to get to his feet, practically falling on his face as he tried to get as close as possible to the other, finally falling on his knees with a loud thud in front of him, his arms wrapping around his waist in desperation. He could practically feel tears streaming down his face. "Someone real!" He cried, giving Batman's very solid waist a squeeze. He rubbed his dirty face against Batman's clean cape, desperate for as much contact as possible, his eyes closing tightly as the real light burnt his retinas.

"Yes Superman, I am real. And I am here to free you." Batman began to lie smoothly as he helped the other to his feet, trying hard not to cringe at having to touch such a 'filthy creature'. "I have no idea who did this to you, but whoever it was must have been a genius. You have been in here for almost a week and a half."

"H-how did you find me?" He re wrapped his arms around Batman, taking in the man's scent, for a moment not liking it, but slowly figuring it was his imagination. This was Batman, a fellow member of the Justice league; he was safe now, wasn't he?

"I have my ways. Now listen closely, the man behind this is still close by, so I need you to follow me and stay close. Don't ask any questions, and maybe, just maybe we will both get out alive." Superman nodded, gripping Batman tightly as they slowly left the room, his vision and eardrums being assaulted by the sounds and lighting. From what he could tell they were in an old tunnel, and he could smell nothing but Batman and his own blood. They walked for what felt like hours, Superman's knees threatening to give out at any moment, causing Batman to growl as they made frequent stops. "I nearly almost forgot." Batman reached into his newest compartment on his belt, pulling out what appeared to be a black dog collar with a bright shining red gem hanging down. "This is a tracker I want you to wear."

"Why-"

"I said don't question me." Batman snarled, placing the collar on his throat as he got onto his knees before him, a wicked smile trying to force its way onto his lips. Part two of his plan was in action, it wouldn't be long now till he got what he wanted, and then some.


	7. Chapter 7

Bruce had to admit he was a bit shock how easily his plan was coming together. Though it wasn't necessarily a bad thing. He was pleased at the fact that the red kryptonite encrusted collar was now around Superman's neck, which held two purposes. One was the fact that it was symbolic to the point that he was Superman's master, and Superman was as low as a dog. The second was the closer to his brain the kryptonite was, the stronger it worked.

Bruce had learn throughout the years that different pieces of red kryptonite held different purposes, some made Superman red with devil horns, some made him blind, angry, and so on and so forth, but this was a special piece, he had stolen it from Luther himself. This piece would allow total obedience; any of his sick fantasies could be played out, just by a simple command. Bruce was almost giddy at the thought of just how he was going to use it. "Superman?"

"Yes Batman?" The Man of Steel was leaning against the caves wall, dried blood crusted around his ears, his eyes blood shot and trying to focus on the vigilante that stood before him. His body visibly shook, his skin pale, and his hair a greasy mess. Batman took his chance, in one large stride he stood before him, his hand on the red jewel, his eyes narrowing behind his cowl.

"I want you to follow me without question, you will follow me, and you will walk without my assistance. You will remain two steps behind me, and you will remain silent. Nod if you understand." His voice held back his malice, but the venom was still clear in his words. He watched Superman's face, smirking when the kryptonian nodded, his eyes glazing over as the kryptonite did its job. But Bruce was yet to be convinced. "Superman, get on your hands and knees and kiss my feet like the dog that you are."

Superman opened his mouth to retort as he got onto his hands and knees against is will, his mouth dropping in surprise. He couldn't stop himself from kissing Batman's mud covered boots, the mud getting into his mouth. His eyes flicked up, he grimaced outwardly as his stomach churned at the disgusting taste and for a moment he felt that he was back in the room. He must have been, there was no way Batman would make him do this.

His brain willing this 'hallucination' to end. He spat to the side. Spitting a few times, willing the horrible taste to leave his mouth. He sat back on his heels and glared at the smirking vigilante that stared down at him. "Now that we have a good understanding of who's in charge," He reached for the collar, speaking his words carefully. "I forbid you from taking this off. You will keep this on as long as you live. Nod if you understand."

Again Superman nodded, his blue eyes narrowing. He wanted to ram his fist into Batman's head to knock some sense into him, but before he could move Batman added one other command. "You will not hurt me, and from the look on your face you want to. Now get up and follow me."

Batman turned on his heel and began to walk quickly, another smirk plastered on his face as he heard Superman quickly get up off the ground to follow him. 'What shall I have him do next?' He thought to himself. 'He reeks from being in that god awful room, perhaps I'll have him take a bath in hot bleach to see if his skin is really as indestructible as they say, or perhaps I'll be nice and allow him a normal shower, after all, I can't break him too quickly or tonight won't be any fun.'

The silence was killing Superman, his body ached, and his head hurt. He wanted nothing more than to lie down and sleep, perhaps to wake up and find that he was back home in bed, yet no matter how much he longed for it, he knew that whatever was going was real, and that he would have to deal with it. With each breathe he could feel the kryptonite collar tugging on his throat, weighing heavily on him. He followed Batman obediently, his eyes down casted as he watched his shadow. He could hear the sound of trickling water, and the soft screeches of the bats from overhead.

"Superman." The darkly clad hero stopped as he gazed at the other, a fake gentle smile on his otherwise stony face. He had a nasty new plan in mind; one that he thought was going to be a lot more fun than his original. Perhaps not for the kryptonian, but certainly for himself. He reached over and brushed his black gloved fingers against the gems on the collar. "I want your mind to be blank, become like a living puppet, and let your mind wander in thoughts of your home."

Superman grit his teeth to prevent himself from saying anything, but even as he thought of the words to say he felt them vanish, in fact, he felt everything vanish. His blood shot eyes blinked wearily for a moment, the image of Batman in front of him vanishing, being replaced by the soft scenery of the golden colored fields in Kansas, beautifully enhanced by a baby blue sky with just a few wisps of clouds. Outwardly his body relaxed, eyes glazed over as a sleepy little smile graced his perfectly tanned lips. Superman remained on his feet, but his shoulders slumped, his head lulling forward in a marionette fashion, his arms hanging limply.

"Continue following me." Batman smirked openly when he saw the shift in Superman's demeanor, he once again was walking towards the stairs the connected the cave to the Wayne Manor. He was going to allow the Man of Steel one last good night, one last good memory to hold onto before Bruce shatters both his body and mind. From time to time he looked over his shoulder to make sure he was following, and each time he was met by the face of bliss as Superman stumbled behind him, occasionally mumbling something about 'good doggy'. Did he have a dog? Bruce didn't remember reading that he did. Perhaps maybe when he was younger?

He was quick to shake it aside as he ascended the stairs, pulling on the chain to open the grandfather clock door. He glanced at the portrait of his Mother and Father and made a quick cross over his heart, kissing his right thumb in sign of respect for the dead. He would have greeted them out loud, but did not want to risk Superman somehow waking up and seeing them. No filthy alien should ever lay eyes on the image of his sanctified parents, his heavenly Father and angelic Mother. He closed the door to the cave, locking it tightly, resuming walk once more. He walked out of his Fathers office, passing the large banquet hall, heading straight for the main stair case that led to the East and West Wings. Bruce took to the west wing, entering the first room on the left.

The room was Bruce's private bedroom, the place he went when he needed to be alone or needed to nurse a severe hang over. There were no windows, only drapes that hung from the ceiling to hint that there were once windows, now long gone. Up against the far left wall sat a large king sized bed, covered in rich silk blankets and throw pillows, a bottle of Jack Daniels sitting on the night stand next to it. But Bruce wasn't interested in the room just yet; he was interested in the connecting bathroom. As he approached the bathroom door he began to remove his cowl, tossing his gloves and cape to the floor. He took off his utility belt and rested it gently on the floor, knowing that if it was tossed the mini explosives would activate, and he did not feel like redecorating.

The door to the bathroom was opened with a soft bang as Bruce made his way inside; the lights turning on as the detectors sensed movement. Everything in the room shimmered under the bright florescent lighting. The white tiled floor was polished to perfection, the same going to the countertops and toilet all thanks to Alfred. He stood in the middle of the bathing room as he grabbed the kryptonite once more. "Listen closely, I want you to remember when we first met, I want you to remember that you 'loved' me the very first time you saw me. You will treat me as a lover, and worship me above all else. When I remove my hand I want you to return to this reality and leave whatever slum home world you are thinking about and remember nothing of before."

He counted silently to three as he removed his hand, taking a step back, his tongue wetting his dry lips. He kept his gaze on the aliens eyes as he slumped forward, the fake memories fabricating themselves into his head, causing confusion for a moment before the rest of his brain was shut off, trapping his other memories deep within. With a crack of his spine he stood up, eyes that were once glazed over were now sharp and focused on Bruce, lips tugging into a smile as he spotted him. Without a second to spare Bruce found himself being hoisted up in the air and hugged firmly against the Man of Steels chest. Bruce resisted the urge to elbow him in the throat. "Hello Clark."

"I had the most wonderful dream, about the old farm I used to live on and our dog Krypto." He inhaled Bruce's scent, as if for the first. It made him embrace the billionaire more tightly, brushing warm tanned cheeks on his pale cold ones. He stopped mid rub when he looked around the room. "I-I don't really remember this place Batman. Is this your bathroom?"

"Our bathroom." Bruce added, wanting to keep the façade strong. "You were sick, and I thought a nice hot bath would make you feel better. Now please, put me down and get undressed, I'll draw you a bath." Bruce wanted to vomit at how nice he had to be to the other. He didn't even draw his own god damn baths! But still, without a complaint when Clark released him from his hold he went to the tub, starting up the hot water and pouring in bath salts.

Like an eager child Superman looked around the room, his eyes going to Bruce ever so often like a love sick puppy as he slowly removed his costume, he hadn't the foggiest idea as to why, but suddenly he felt very grimy, and achy, and the sound of a hot bath was just too tempting.


	8. Chapter 8

As the water from the facet roared to life, Bruce tilted his head just a fraction of an inch, watching as Clark began to unclasp his cape. The muscles of Clark's chest rippled as he grabbed the bottom of his shirt, pulling the blue spandex shirt up off. Just like the skin on his hands and face, he was tanned, the skin of his torso just as perfect and blemish free as Bruce imagined it would be. Bruce couldn't help but watch in fascination as Clark removed his belt from behind, dropping the simple golden belt to the floor with a soft klink. With a swift tug and stepping on heels, the bottom of the spandex costume and red boots were gone, leaving Clark standing in all his naked glory, a hand running down his chest and stomach, as if stroking off dirt that was not there.

Bruce did a careful exam with his eyes as he turned off the water in the tub, feeling the steam rise against his bare hand. His tongue licked at his dry lips, the rumor of Superman having a god like body was true. He reminded Bruce of an ancient roman statue breathed into life, the way his hips and shoulders were perfectly symmetrical, the way his skin appeared to be glowing sunlight, and the way his lips formed a perfect sultry pout without even trying. Not to mention he was by far bigger down stairs then what his costume held others to believe. "Clark, undress me."

Lips that were once in a sultry pout flickered into a wide smile as Clark took two large strides over to where his 'lover' stood. The kryptonite crystal rested lightly on his chest now, no longer catching the kryptonians attention as he placed his hands on Bruce's cape clad shoulders. He nuzzled his nose against Bruce's, fingers running under his black cape, pulling down on the zipper that connected from the back of his neck to his tail bone. "It'll be my pleasure." He breathed, taking a step back as he peeled off the cape and shirt, tossing it aside next to his own. He placed his tanned hands against Bruces pale chest, tracing the muscles of his stomach, his blue eyes examining his darker colored nipples that seemed to almost perk as he brushed them with his thumbs. Clark leaned forward again as he tugged down on Bruce's bottoms, getting down onto his knees as he tugged the materials to his ankles, prodding him to move backwards to step out of them. With a pleased smirk on his lips Bruce stepped out, lifting his feet one at a time as Clark removed his dark colored combat boots, smirking more as he felt two twin kisses pressed to his ankles.

"Get in the tub. Now." Bruce ordered, knowing that even if he were to start acting rotten to the other that he would still 'love' him. Though his voice held a bite, Clark's brain did not register it. Without a thought in his head he brushed past the billionaire, stepping eagerly into the tub that held the steaming hot water. An audible groan escaped his lips as he placed his other foot in, holding onto the sides of the tub as he submerged his lower body, the water like fire, licking at his sore muscles, causing both muscle and skin to tingle pleasantly. A soft moan was emitted as he rest his head back against the ivory slated walls, his eyes closing.

Bruce shook his head for a moment, watching the kryptonian relax from the bath. He was tempted to smile but stopped himself. He must have been out of his mind, this wasn't a human, this creature before him didn't feel real emotions or pain, just nothingness, how could something that wasn't human feel anything? He was no better than an animal in Bruce's mind. In annoyance, a bit at himself, Bruce stepped into the tub, sitting down across from the kryptonian, purposely placing foot against his. His plan was to be intimate but refrained, to be gentle but by no means submissive, he was an actor, wearing mask after mask, and this was the part in the play that could either make him or break him.

"What are you thinking about?" Bruce asked after a moment of complete silence, grabbing a bar of rose scented soap and a wash cloth. He lathered up the cloth and began to rub at his own arms, rubbing circles to remove the sweat and grime from the day of hunting down the Joker and Scarecrow. He raised his arms as he began to clean himself more thoroughly, his eyes never truly leaving the kryptonians face. He felt the microscopic bumps in his flesh beginning to perk up, causing a small patch of goose bumps to appear as he thought of what it would feel like to have his body be bathed by the other tongue. Would his tongue feel as soft as the wet towel in hand? Or possibly rough and scratchy like a kittens?

"Nothing." Clark purred, his hand rubbing the kryptonite collar as his hand continued to rub down his chest. He didn't know why he wore this strange collar, but he had no intention of removing it. "I'm just thinking about you, and about how this water feels amazing." He pushed lower into the tub, the water now lapping at his chin. He felt as if he was being reborn, the ache from his joints leaving and the accursed ringing in his ears vanishing. He felt Bruce's ankle on his and moved his against it. He moaned softly as he felt Bruce rub the towel against his skin, opening his eyes to watch as the dark vigilante moved closer to him, scrubbing at his arm till his skin practically shone with cleanliness. "You don't have to."

"Humph." Bruce dropped the towel over his face, moving back to sit across from him. "Fine, do it yourself then." He snapped, crossing his arms over his chest as he glared at him. Watching him pick up the wash cloth and resume the cleaning that Bruce had started.

"I am sorry, you were trying to be nice and I ruined it." The kryptonian smiled weakly at his 'beloved', moving to wash Bruce's chest. The smile widened, the clothe moving down his sides and against his hips. "I'll make up for it." He scrubbed at Bruce's stomach, moving the towel lower and lower till the other smacked his hand away. This was not part of the plan. Bruce pushed him away, standing up quickly, causing the water to splash over the edge of the tub. "Batman?"

"Finish up your bath. I will be waiting in the next room." Bruce gruffed, going over to the red oak cabinet, pulling out a large black cotton towel. He quickly dried himself off, tying the towel around his hips. Ignoring the others protest for him to stay. He left the bathroom, heading over to the walk in closet, pulling a plain black suit off the hangers, dressing as he awaited the others arrival from the bathroom.

The moment the door was closed Clarks smile fell from his lips, he continued to wash himself off, dunking head under the water to try and wash the grease out. He almost wanted to stay in the tub forever, but his bladder once again gave a jolt of pain and his stomach twisted, surprising him as he placed his hands on his stomach. He removed himself from the tub after a minute of stroking his stomach, trying to calm the aching, but to no avail. He weakly got to his knees and grabbed a white towel from where Bruce took his, draping it over his shoulders as he made his way over to the white basin that was polished to perfection, finally relieving himself of the urge to urinate, not knowing that it had been literally days since the last time he had.

With one pain down he began to wash his hands, he could still feel the dull pain of his stomach, twisting and gurgling as it cried out for food. He reached for the drying towel that hung just above the sink and wiped off his hands, cringing as his stomach gurgled again, the noise incredibly loud for some unknown reason. With dry hands he wrapped the towel around his waist and left the steamy bathroom, looking about the room to try and find his 'beloved' Bruce, whom he found sitting at an oak desk, typing away at a small laptop, dressed in a black turtle neck, and black slacks, pronouncing his already pale skin. "Batman?"

Bruce closed the lap top just as he spoke, placing it within one of the lower shelves. Bruce's ice blue eyes ran over his body as he got up from the desk, picking up a small pile of clothing from the edge of the bed. He strode over to him, dropping the pile on the floor in front of him. "Get dressed. We're going down stairs to have dinner tonight, and call me Bruce." Bruce ordered, sitting at the foot of the bed, arms crossed over his broad chest. Obediently Clark stooped over, picking up the clothing and examining them, curious as to why there was only a long white shirt and a pair of boxer shorts. He did not question though, slipping the towel off, once more revealing himself to Bruce as he tugged on the shorts, wincing as the waist band began to dig into him, the shorts were two sizes to small, possibly a child's Large. The shirt on the other hand was almost a perfect fit though length wise was too long, clinging to his chest and shoulders like a second skin. He didn't see any pants.

"Can I wear something else?" Clark finally asked as he looked over to Bruce, not sure if he was feeling uncomfortable from the look the other shot him, or the fact that he was positive the blood was no longer running to his lower body. He tugged down on the shirt as he felt an odd feeling off blood suddenly heading down to his pelvis region, an ache growing in him as he stared at Bruce, who seemed to notice the shift in blood. "B-Bruce, these are too tight." He whined softly, sliding fingers under the waist band to try and remove some of the pressure. Only to hiss as the waistband touching his back began to dig in more, he was positive he saw a smirk on Bruce's face as he glanced over to him.

"No. Those are what you are wearing; there are pants in the bathroom, second drawer from the left. Wear the ones with the green tag." Bruce couldn't help but smirk as he noticed a small bulge under the edge of the long shirt, the underwear once belonged to his 'son' Jason, and heavens only knew how small hipped and thin that boy was, and with Clarks muscle, and the mere fact he was well hung, didn't help the poor kryptonian any. He watched the receding back as Clark went to the bathroom again to grab the pants, this time the pants belonged to Bruce, they were his older, more ratty looking pants that he only wore when he was lounging around the house and wanted to still look presentable. He was planning on burning them later when he would eventually rip them off the alien in a show of dominance.

Which then made him curious, he had felt his skin earlier when it was grimy from sweat and dirt, but what did it feel like in its natural state? Was it as soft as it looked? Or was it smooth and hard like marble? Was it cool to the touch like a smooth stone? Was it sensitive like a humans, or even more so? Bruce wanted to know what it felt like to kiss and bite his lips, taste the others blood from biting him so hard, map out every inch of his mouth, to feel every inch of him with his hands, was the other even a virgin? He could only imagine no, it was his understand that the alien himself had a romantic affair with the very human President Luther, but still Bruce couldn't imagine the alien to truly give himself up to the other, he was probably raised with the ordeal that sex should be between to married loving adult, not a couple mixed with both villainy and heroism, perhaps a hand job or two, and even that Bruce found hard to believe.

"Bruce, do these look ok?" The voice, soft yet so full of his typical heroism brought Bruce out of his musing as the alien stood before him, the pants clinging to him almost like a second skin as he walked over to him, hands in the back pockets.

"They look fine." Bruce replied, standing up to examine him, walking around him in a large circle, almost like a hunter examining its prey. "Clark?"

"Yes?" Clark's eyes followed him as he walked.

"Do you love me?"

"More than anything in the world." Clark answered obediently.

"Good." The kryptonite was still working. "Clark, carry me down stairs."


	9. Chapter 9

As before, without hesitation, Clark had done what Bruce had asked, carrying him down the grand stair case and to the grand dining hall when he was ordered to. He held onto him firmly yet gently, steps somewhat shorter as the briefs cut into his thighs, making him hiss lightly, yet he was willing to ignore it, just to be able to hold his 'beloved'. "Place me down at the head of the table." Bruce ordered, arms crossed as he was carried bridal style, brows furrowed. He waited impatiently for the man of steel to pull out his chair, placing him carefully on it as he then pushed him in, pressing lips to his temple.

"Sit to my left." Bruce snapped when he saw that the other had no idea where to sit. "No, not two seats down, the first seat next to me, don't be an idiot." He glared as the other got off the seat and sat closer, knee brushing against his under the table. Bruce unfolded a napkin and placed it on his lap as he saw the elderly butler enter the room, carrying two silver trays, shined to perfection. The man entered the room without a word, his posture perfectly aligned as he placed the trays down in front of them, lifting the lids to reveal the freshly prepared meals, containing only the freshest ingredients. After all, a member of an elite family such as Bruce's, would never be caught dead eating something that was not four star worthy.

The first plate that sat in front of them was a finely chopped salad with light Italian dressing, a poached salmon sitting on a bed of dark green broccoli and asparagus spears neatly placed on a bone white platter just behind the dish. Alfred poured them a glass of red wine, his eyes down casted as he bit his tongue, not wanting to say anything to anger Master Bruce. Though sitting beside the scowling Bruce was a more then delighted Clark who looked at the food with ravenous hunger. Clarks stomach growled harder as he smelled the heavenly food, he felt as if he hadn't eaten in weeks, though in all un known honesty, it had been more than a week since the last time he had eaten, and his cells that stored extra yellow sun radiation and fat were beginning to decay.

Clark thanked the butler with a wide grin, his eyes shining as he picked up the wrong fork, not noticing a difference. Surprise was clear in Alfred's eyes as he heard the over joyed thank you; he fought to control the smile that threatened to appear on his lips. He remained silent, turning an eye to Bruce, mentally tongue lashing the other for not showing any gratitude over the meal he had slaved over. He had hoped, it was a feint hope, yet still a hope, that Clark would somehow melt the ice and stone that surrounded Bruce's heart, but by the sound of Bruce snarling at Clark for using the wrong fork, he knew that there was no hope for the young master.

"You are no longer required here." Bruce snarled as he spotted the Butler hovering over Clark, gently showing the other the different uses for the silverware. "Go. Away."

"As you wish Master Bruce." Alfred slowly placed down the salad fork against the napkin, bidding them a good meal before making his exit, a shadow of pain hinting in his eyes. He only ever wanted the best for Bruce, wanted him to grow up to be a charming young man as his father had, but those dreams were dashed. And over the years he slowly learned that having no dreams were better than a broken one.

"I like him, he's nice. Though I cannot place him." Clark said as he began to eat his salad, cherishing the taste of the oils mixing against the hand cut romaine. "Is he a new butler?"

"No." Bruce stated, taking a sip from his gauntlet. He watched Clark as he ate, his eyes narrowing as he witnessed the others table manners. Clark was raised in the South, on a farm by the Kent's; of course the other wouldn't know the proper way to eat. Yet as much as Bruce hated to admit it, his table manners were not that of an average eater. He kept his elbows off the table, and a napkin tucked in his shirt- a crude way to keep food off his shirt- Bruce thought. The other ate with the fork in his left rather than his right- perhaps ambidextrous? "I see your 'Mother' taught you some crude table manners."

"Ma?" Clark took a curious sip of his wine. "Yeah, Ma taught me almost everything about manners and such."

"I can tell." The comment was meant to be insulting, but the other kept smiling, moving on from his already eaten salad to his salmon. Bruce concentrated on his own food now rather than the 'awful' table manners he believed to be witnessing.

"This is amazing." Clark gushed as he took his first bite of the flakey fish, automatically cutting himself off another piece from his plate. His smile was a bit childish, filled with innocence as he looked over to Bruce, slowly placing his free hand under the table to rest it innocently against Bruce's knee. "I'm so lucky to have found someone like you Bruce. You make me feel normal, human."

'You make me feel normal, human.' Bruce replayed that moment over and over, his eyes narrowing in hidden disgust as he ate quietly, moving his knee away from Clark's hand. "Just keep your mouth shut and eat." He snarled, not showing any indication that he cared that Clark was now lightly frowning, saddened that his red kryptonite induced affections were not returned at the moment. The meal went on in silence, ending in silence as Alfred came to gather their dishes, a bit paler then he was earlier as he told Bruce that the lounge was set up for them.

"Are you ok?" Clark asked as he saw the look on the much older man's face, his protective instincts coming into play. Who was this man? And why did he look so sad?

"I am quite well, thank you for asking Master Kent." Alfred lied smoothly, saying the words he knew Bruce would want to hear. "Your concerns are not necessary, but thank you for taking the time to ask." It was his way of saying 'at least someone cares, unlike you Bruce.'

"Come along Clark." Bruce stated as he got up, placing a hand on the red kryptonite chunk, his face inches away from the kryptonians. "It's time to go to the lounge."

"Lounge?" Clarks head began to pound, his mind growing foggy and vague as his brain was forced to create memories of him and Bruce spending time in the lounge. "Oh yes…the lounge, where we…watched the news and discussed politics? Right love?"

Bruce gave him an annoyed look as he nodded. "Follow me. Two steps behind me, no more, no less." He turned on his heel, leading the other, a smirk on his lips. His plan was working out quite wonderfully, yet there was something that puzzled him. Though for the life of him he could yet to pin point what left him feeling uneasy. Perhaps it was just his ever cautious mind finally getting the better of him.

Clark remained behind him, two steps back, his head lightly lulling forward as his mind once more became cloudy and sluggish. He tried to remember more about their 'relationship', but save for what Bruce had told him, he knew nothing. He would have thought that strange if it wasn't for the feeling of admiration and desire that crept through him as he thought of the other, never once questioning if these suddenly over whelming feels where his own. "I love you."

Bruce grunted in response, ignoring him otherwise. He was growing more and more annoyed as he waited, bidding his time, wanting the other to be completely smitten before he would break him. And he promised to break him hard; Bruce wanted to savor it, to finally see the self-righteous alien crumble beneath his boot. He was growing tired of waiting to crush him, growing tired of wearing a mask in his own home when he should be lounging around like the king that he thought he was.

"Get ready Clark."

"For what?" Clark asked as he heard him, dodging a closing door in his face.

"Wouldn't you like to know." Bruce quietly snarled.


	10. Chapter 10

There's an old saying about how no matter what is going on, your gut is always aware of the situation. A follow up saying is 'listen to your gut, it will never steer you wrong.' Even with the red kryptonite controlling his mind, Clarks gut was starting to twist in alarm as they walked into the darkened lounge. From the moment he stepped in Clark could feel a freezing draft lick at his bare feet.

The lounge itself appeared to be a mini home theatre, a large flat screen built into the far wall with a set of surround sound speakers set up in the upper ceiling corners. The overhead lights were dimmed; an L shaped couch sat in the middle of the room next to a glass coffee table. A few tea candles were lit, emitting soft green flames that casted an eerie alien glow upon the couch.

"Why don't we skip watching T.V and just talk? I am very interested in you tonight." Bruce played coy as he strode over to the couch, taking a seat on the middle cushion and stretched out, a perfect play boy smile on his billionaire lips. The green glow reflected a bit off his pale skin, adding a bit to his seductive appearance as his legs crossed and his arms were stretched out against the back of the couch, his right hand twitching in a sign for Clark to join him on the couch.

"Well, what do you want to know? What can I tell you that you already don't know?" Clark moved over to sit by him, a small gasp escaping as Bruce pulled him onto his lap. A blush found its way onto his cheeks as he looked down into Bruce's eyes, a strange warmth going through his body. He assumed it was from the sudden contact, but it felt more like it was coming from behind. It wasn't painful, but it defiantly didn't feel right. He watched as Bruce reached for the collar and held the kryptonite, leaning in so his face was almost touching the others.

"Re tell me everything. I want to hear you tell me about your past again." Was the lustful reply to his question.

"Y-You should already know that by heart." The heat against his back was definitely starting to cause him to become uncomfortable. But how could a few little candles cause that much heat?

"Tell me again." Bruce rubbed a hand down the front of Clarks chest and looked over his shoulders at the candles.

"I- I came from the planet of Krypton. Just two solar systems over. My Mother was a home wife and an advisor to my Father, while my Father was a great and well known Scientist on our planet. He actually found out that my planets core was becoming unstable, but not many believed him, and the ones who did were too few to gain enough numbers to do anything to prevent it. In the end the planet collapsed and was destroyed, but my parents sacrificed themselves so that I could live. They rocketed me here when I was just an infant." A small tear formed and fell from his right eye as he spoke of his beginning, dreaming once more of a home he would never see for himself, save for in memory crystals, a gift from his parents. "I was found in a corn field, by my adopted parents. Ma and Pa raised me in Smallville, on our twelve acre farm. It was actually a lot of fun, a lot of work but a lot of fun. My Pa taught me responsibility, and patience, if it weren't for him and Ma, I don't think I would have ever become a hero."

"How quaint." Bruce listened with more interest than he had anticipated, he needed to know more. That was when Bruce noticed the tear, reaching up he brushed it away, curious if it was similar to a human tear. "How did you learn about your powers?"

"Well, when I was five I began to notice that I was a bit different than the other children. Ma and Pa had to constantly watch me when I went out to play because sometimes I didn't understand my own strength. I was faster than the others; I could see and hear things they couldn't. When they were getting colds and runny noses, I was chasing after snowflakes and running through the fields. It wasn't until I was thirteen and just starting high school that I noticed I was even more gifted. I mistakenly set fire to a banister just by looking at it. I froze half a pond by sneezing; it was a rather scary and confusing time." Clark subconsciously leaned forward and rested his forehead against Bruce's. "But in the end I was able to learn how to control it, and eventually make a name for myself. And now, because of all that hard work, I have you."

A strong heartbeat, the warmth of the god like creature, the smell of the wine on his breathe, and it was enough to almost make Bruce feel. For the first time since his parent's murder he felt an actual emotion besides anger or lust. He almost allowed himself to fall under the peaceful trance, but just as fast as it occurred so did it fade. "Hmm."

"I love you; I'll never stop loving you." Clark kissed Bruce's lips, kissing his chin next, and then over his eyes, love that wasn't real practically radiating from him like a furnace. He kissed the tip of the billionaires' nose, sitting up suddenly, eyes starting to glaze. "Bruce?"

"Yes?" Bruce asked calmly.

"It-It hurts." As if to prove a point Clarks back began to arch inwards, trying to somehow get away from the heat that began to assault his back. "Oh god Bruce, my back feels like it's on fire!" Clark's hands latched onto Bruce's shoulders, clamping down hard enough to bruise the skin, but the red kryptonite kept his strength in check in order to not hurt the other in his attempt to get away from the pain. With a stone look Bruce simply stroke a hand down Clarks back, and barely smirked as he felt that the kryptonians back was indeed extremely hot to the touch.

"Relax Clark; I'm sure it's just in your head." Bruce cooed, his voice taking on a dark undertone. "Or it could be the kryptonite infused into the candles, but who can tell."

"Kr-Kryptonite?!" Panic was evident in Clark's voice as he pushed himself away from the other, eyes widened. "Bruce, kryptonite hurts me!" Even as he said it he could feel the pain once more run up his spine, the collar losing its effectiveness as the green kryptonite began to slowly cancel out the red. In a last minute frantic he pushed himself away from Bruce, falling backwards onto the floor, his fall causing the table to shake from the impact. Like pins following down in a bowling alley, the candles began to topple, greenish white wax dripping down onto the kryptonian who groaned in pain, scampering backwards to get away. "Why would you do this to me?"

"Because I hate you." Bruce finally answered, enjoying the sight of Clark cowering a good foot or two away, tearing at his own skin in a desperate attempt to remove the wax from his skin. "I hate everything about you. Why should you, an alien of mass destruction be praised as a hero and worshiped when a human like me is scorned and casted aside? I am human, I belong on earth. You are an alien." Bruce's voice hardened as he picked up one of the candles, dripping the wax purposely over Clarks face as the kryptonian suddenly looked up. "You deserve to be dissected and studied."

"Auugghh!" A cry of pain escaped the kryptonian as the wax dripped down onto his cheeks, eyes watering. "How can you say this? You- I love you!"

"You love me because I make you love me. The collar around your neck is nothing more than a dog collar and a chunk of kryptonite." Bruce continued to torment him with the wax, insanity creeping into his ice blue eyes. "If I told you to stab yourself right now you would. If I told you to suck my cock you would without question. I own you, and the collar shows your status in this world. Now open your eyes dog, and let the fog of love be lifted. See me for who I am, your master, and above all your superior."

Time slowed to a crawl as Clark felt a rush of emotions hit him. The red kryptonite around his neck felt heavier and his mind felt foggier as he was rushed by memories. Remembering each and every hour of being locked in the Sanctuary, the kisses he had placed on Bruce's lips and face just mere minutes ago, and the memories of how Bruce truly acted around him. It was all a lie, the love was nothing more than a vague feeling, leaving him to feel cold and empty as the kryptonite wax continued to burn away at his skin.

"All this…is a lie?" Clark's voice was barely a whispered as he brought a hand up to his throat to feel the kryptonite. "You made me love you? And for what? To use me? To humiliate me?!" His voice became louder as he pushed himself off the ground, the urge to fight coursing through him like a tidal wave. "I trusted you Bruce; I always looked at us as equals! Everyone in the Justice League is my equal, but you? You're no better than the villains we lock in jail! You're a sick person Bruce!"

The last sentence was what pushed Bruce over the edge, without warning he grabbed the coffee table and smashed it down against Clarks head, causing it to break in half. He wasted no time in waiting for Clark to recover from shock, smashing his fist against the side of Clark's temple. Like a wild animal that had just been released he pursued him, fists making impact on every inch of the alien that he could get to, teeth clenched to the point where Bruce could feel his own teeth begin to slowly grind. "Fight back!" He roared as he smashed Clarks head repeatedly into the wall, causing pieces of the stone to chip away.

"I won't hurt you. You're just a human." Clark snapped as he finally put a hand up in self-defense, grabbing Bruce by the wrist, flinging him backwards. "I will give you a choice Bruce, either let me go, dismiss yourself from the team and never contact me again, or have me send you to the Phantom Zone. It's your choice."

"You do not speak to your master in that way."

"You are not my master." Clark snarled, wiping away a trickle of blood that ran from his nose to his bottom lip.

"I order you to bow down!" Bruce yelled, watching in delight as the kryptonian was forced to get down onto his knees, the red kryptonite still holding some power over him. "Now, beg master for forgiveness."

**AN: Thank you everyone for the awesome reviews and such, and thank you for the critiques, they really do help me. ^w^ I'm sorry that the story is so dark, but I always did picture Batman in this way, though It's not that fair since I am a superman fangirl. If you have any questions or want to role play with me for ideas and such just let me know. I am Ask-Superman at Deviantart. **


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